Dad: so when you were born I left you in the care of mama and nana and didi because they would look after you better than I could. Son: you didn't want to wipe up the shit. Dad: don't say shit. Son: OK, dad.
Son: so you know kids have been warned not to talk to strangers online. Some paedophiles are pretending to be chicken nuggets to groom their next victim. I'm sorry, but it's natural selection, isn't it? How stupid do you have to be to believe that the online voice urging you to meet them in the park is really a chicken nugget? Dad: (5 minutes of helpless laughter) even so, just because they're dim, doesn't mean they deserve to be a paedophile's victim, does it? Son: didn't say it did, but c'mon dad, fuckin' chicken nuggets? Dad: don't say fuckin'. Son: OK, dad.
Becky Binz-Comely was having a wonderful week. Formula 1 and Darts had been forced to stop using 'grid' and 'walk-on' girls after pressure from their broadcasters. A great moment for equality and a small step towards ending the disgusting objectification of women!
Not that Becky objected to objectification per se. She always loved the Lady Garden Gala at Claridge's, where gorgeous hunks in skimpy loin-cloths served hard-lunching ladies. Oh!
Becky took a large swig of Chardonnay. But that was different: hard-lunching, decent ladies deserved their annual ogle; not at all the same as those filthy, leering oiks at the darts. Context was everything.
Had daddy's allowance come through? She must buy a new frock to celebrate!
Meanwhile, in Romford, ex-walk-on girl Jacky Common looked despairingly at the bile of bills on the table. 60% of her income gone overnight. What would she do now? She picked up the kitchen knife and considered those who with a whim and a wish could …